Karuna Sahita

As time went by thoughts filled up my brain (and the notepad on my phone), and some of them are here to shared. (Uncut, unexplained, and unfinished.)

We couldn't be more opposite, you and I. Some reason though, we need each other. I'm still figuring out why.

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Your words are like knives that cut my wrist like my fingernails do when I need to be soothed.

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I'm ready to tell you the truth. I kept you around because it was convenient to have someone to say, "nice legs" with no commitment attached to the front of it, and nice to know that behind his tight grasp I had something to make him jealous if I'd ever needed to. I never did though because he was beautiful. I use the term was only because its been too long for me to make that call today. He's still beautiful in my mind, and maybe I'll see him again.

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There's a reason that there's always a J. Willard in my second semester seminary class. 

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I have insecurities that seem to be picking themselves out like an ink stain on a blank sheet of typewriter paper. As I sat tonight, next to beauties of poetry, I noticed that . . .

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I wonder what it will feel like to

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I don't like to put myself in social situations. That's not true. I love social situations, I'm just really, really bad at them. Usually some awkward person that I know I should say hello to but I don't know how, a cute boy that I'd love to small talk with and then that really pretty girl that I wish I were.

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So what if I like the nice boys, and the smart boys, and the boys that aren't perfectly beautiful. One time, I tried that and perfectly beautiful boys usually know how to run. Which is terribly unfortunate to the non runner.

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My thought process goes like this sometimes: was I a bad girlfriend? Do I pray loud enough? Do I talk to much in seminary? Is she actually more beautiful than me, or is it just me being my worst critic?

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I claim to like your best friend, but I flirt with you more, so that may cause a bit of trouble.

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I love love, no?

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Certain people make me feel safe. Connor once told me that I only take risks on occasion. Too bad he was right. Miles makes me feel safe, Logan makes me hesitate, Addy makes me feel at home, Marley makes me feel normal, and that's all safe.

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One time, 3 boys texted me all in one night just to say hello, and it wasn't even for Addy.

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Toby's comment today was too personal. It wasn't just him being the sexist pig that he is, it was a stab right at me.

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I'm holding my breath because every time I don't, I end up initiating something. It's bittersweet. Every boy I've ever kissed was only because I wanted to kiss them first, and do that I did. One day he will kiss me first.

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well, there's my bad writing for the month.

enduringly, mo.r.gan.

No One Gets Me Like You

It's the way you curse that doesn't offend me like it should, and that perfect hair that makes me love you. You are true, and your voice has that hint of rasp that forces me to look when I hear. You take disappointment well, or at least that's what you show on the outside. You are free; you are talented.

You are intricate and beautiful. You are soft, but utterly strong. You love, really love.

I read your written words, the words that can't ever be out-written, and that wit? If I held even a corner of the wit you do, it would be placed right HERE on display.

People don't know you. No, they know you, but they don't know you. I don't know you, but I've noticed that you hide behind that blonde hair.

You are smart, but you don't try. I've been told you're too honest, and that you always tell the truth, but hey, I like that about you.

I like you, and I liked you before I knew you.

You try too hard. You feel like you have to erase the bad reputation that you've built upon yourself, but part of you wants to live up to it. I don't get you.

You told me that you write poetry that you don't let anyone read. You radiate confidence, but I know that part of you is afraid, and it bothers me more than it should that you are afraid of feeling. You are weak, not in a negative way, but in a way that is covered by your strength; it shows that you're real.

Everyone warns of your potential madness. It hasn't surfaced and crushed me yet. You are considerate when someone new is around.

You are stunning, so stunning. You know all the pieces of who I am becoming and that's okay with you. You are becoming someone incredible, too. If you aren't at my hip I feel lost, and you know what? I love that. You've wrapped me up and tied me like a knot in your life. You're loud, and you're cute, and you know so much more than most. You feel things beneath the line that most people feel things; deeper. You know what you want, and you will get it. Thank you, love, thank you.

I miss you, and I hope that you miss me, too, but if I don't see you again, I'll know what to look for. You're pure, and you work like most people don't. You hold tightly, and comfortably, and I know that you pray.

That silence that I hear? That's you.

And you don't care that I'm not perfectly pretty, or that I never say the right amount of words.



But, I love you.

Geico Can Save You Fifteen Percent or More on Car Insurance

I didn't know what to say, and I hold on too long. I thought that I forgot.

I didn't though, because like an elephant, I remember.

So music becomes noise, and movies become numbness.

I talk too loud, and I'm quiet too long.

M or   gan

And Then the Tears Began

 

 I quietly pulled on my white button down and heels, slipped on my earrings, and tied back my hair. Alone, I walked out the door and across the street. I sat down and peered out to all the familiar faces. The organ began to play, and I stood up. I lead the voices with a soft swish of my hand. The last prayer was said before I gathered my things, I walked to class when I heard a voice, a voice I was longing to hear, ask how I was. "Great." I replied to that voice as it slowly faded down the hall.

Twelve noon hit and I prayed that I would at least get to say, "Good bye" to that voice, no matter how hard it is for that simple phrase to roll of my tongue.

Nothing.

I chose to walk home with an old friend, because I felt that it was what I needed. What earlier was a voice, became a wave from the car driving past us. We started talking about them, those two that were leaving tomorrow, the voice and the other one. We spoke of how much we admired them. The other one walked up. He talked to her, but I knew that I was supposed to be there. His sweet words brought smiles and watery eyes. Finishing up with a, "I'll see you in December, or maybe even earlier."

It wasn't "Good bye," and that made everything okay.

So, to that voice, I didn't say, "Good bye" because it's not good bye yet, just a, "I'll see you in December, or maybe even earlier."

Perpetually Yours,
morgan jo.